Proof that there was life on other planets arrived in the form of ships coming into orbit above the planet.

As predicted by movies and books for decades, everyone lost their shit.

The various religions vacillated between screaming that it was the Rapture to screaming that it was the work of whatever they named their Devil.

World governments bounced back and forth between wanting to welcome the visitors with open arms to wanting to call all their armies together for self defense.

And the science fiction fans were all a flutter.

The main ship was in a geosynchronous orbit over Washington DC and was so massive it could be clearly seen even during high noon. It took a few days for the first actual communication to be received, apparently because their visitors had to dumb down their own technology to work with Earth's. That and they needed to figure out the language.

When it did come, they announced themselves as the First Order, and claimed they had come to seek a trade partnership with the people of Earth. An exchange of knowledge and technology for resources.

And the world's governments gave a sigh of relief, though they remained cautious. What followed were weeks of classified negotiations, carefully reported to and monitored by the UN. Everything had to be agreed upon before they could even consider a public appearance. The world was in such fervor as it was, with riots fueled by fear breaking out globally, that they needed to try and calm things down.

Finally an arrangement was made. A formal event to officially welcome the First Order and bring their representatives planet side so that the leaders of the world could meet with them and get further details as to what resources were wanted. It was promised to be a grand affair with only the elite invited. And, of course, being the 21st century, the elite included some of the famous.

That was how pop princess (pop tart?) Steffie Swann had managed to get invited. Her agent had somehow managed to get her an invite to the presentation. Security was insanely tight, even more so than for the president. The First Order had even helped to implement some kind of jamming technology that rendered cell phones and cameras useless unless it was a pre-approved camera, which were only allowed by news networks. No live streaming. No Twitter. No Face Time.

She was bored out of her skull and ignored the few glares sent her way as she popped her bubblegum again. Loudly. It was watermelon, too. She was just biding her time until the actual event got started, not really caring about the militaristic unloading of the First Order's representatives and their guards. The armor was cool, though. They all wore white and black, and only the officers were left visible.

She was about to tune out again as a pale, thing man with red hair moved to the podium to give a speech when another figure caught her eye. An even taller, imposing figure dressed all in black, including a black hood, stepped up to the stage at the end of the row of First Order officers. His face was covered by a black and silver mask, though that didn't stop him from giving off a cold, menacing vibe.

She'd felt that same vibe recently, when looking at a sketch done by one of the few people she considered an actual friend.

Steffie grabbed her cell phone and brought it up. No signal. Completely blocked!

The young woman sighed.

She really needed to call Rey.

Fifteen years ago workers at Disney Land had come across a small, stubborn and willful child who had somehow managed to get into the tunnels that ran under the park and allowed the cast to keep the magic going and helped prevent the patrons from seeing any of the drudge work. Once they had managed to secure her and calmed her down enough to figure out anything about her, they'd been shocked to learn she had been hiding in the park for nearly three weeks.

Further research uncovered a trail that led back to a junk yard where a rather unctuous fellow by the name of Unkar Plutt had been using her and several other half-feral orphans to scavenge thru old cars and junk for anything he could sell. Once the cops had gotten their hands on the man they'd found that the four kids he currently used were all 'bought' from parents who were too addicted or too greedy to give a damn about their offspring. He'd been looking for the girl for a little over a month after she'd managed to get away.

Her name was Rey.

No, he didn't know her last name, nor did he have any clear idea of her real age.

He didn't remember her mother's name or how to reach her.

A records search failed to match her footprints with anything on file, and with the press the story generated, that had been a nationwide search. It was determined she was likely born outside of a hospital and never officially registered. Medical exams estimated her to be about five years old, though having been on the cusp of starvation for who knew how long, they couldn't be sure.

The story, however, blew up. Though there were four kids in total, Rey was the first face the country saw and Rey became the face of the entire debacle. How could Disney have failed to notice the starving, wild orphan living in their own park?! It was shameful!

So Disney had stepped up. With their pull and popularity, they managed to get her declared a legal ward of the company and took over all her needs. After some consideration, they decided not to go all the way and call her 'Rey Disney' and kept her as 'Rey Doe', the name most of the public already knew her by.

And it didn't hurt that she was damn cute.

Rey's life went from starvation, slavery and neglect to plenty to eat, tutors to bring her up to speed with her education, therapy to help her deal with her trauma and lessons.

Lots and lots of lessons.

Music lessons. Voice lessons. Acting lessons. Art lessons. Dance lessons.

The only way that her new guardians could have gotten a better lump of clay from which to mold a Disney Princess would have been if they had gotten her the day she was born. She was placed as a Mousketeer when she was six and starred in her first Disney show when she was eight, a family friendly sit-com called "Brian's Rules" where she was cast as the younger, smarter sister to the main character. Once she got out of her awkward phase, which thankfully lasted less than a year, her character 'graduated' to her own show. It was a pro-girl show called "Rules by Rey" where she was the smart girl trying to balance her parents' expectations for her to be a straight-A student and get into an ivy league college with her own dreams of being a singing star.

The usual plan of action for a typical Disney Darling. The role dovetailed into an actual singing career with albums and concerts. Her face was everywhere and she couldn't walk down the street without people recognizing her. Every moment of her day was scrutinized and she couldn't so much as sneeze without it ending up on Facebook or something else. And she earned the House of Mouse far more money in revenue than they ever had to dole out on her.

She wasn't bitter about it. In fact, she was grateful for the life she had. Though there were a lot of people who believed she was being used by Disney for public relations and her earning potential, the laws put into place to protect child stars after the sins of the past ensured that she had a healthy trust fund and the house she now owned in the Arizona desert was paid for in full.

Her days as Disney's poster girl were pretty much over, now that she was (legally) twenty. She wasn't quite cut loose, since their lawyers were the executors of her trust until next year, but she was too well known for people to ignore her playing a teenager when the whole world knew she wasn't. There was an unofficial request that she not go quite as off the rails as some of her fellow Disney kids, such as Miley, Christina, Brittany and, her own compatriot, Steffie. Fortunately for Disney, carefully orchestrated sluttiness was not in her nature.

The Disney executives no longer dictated what kind of music she would record and play, so the sweet country and light pop tunes that had brought her into the limelight were now replaced with more somber, edgier tracks. She was more inclined towards an alternative bent than the happy, upbeat stuff she had grown up singing. She had notebooks full of it. Hundreds of songs she had written and composed while growing up, waiting for the day she could set her own rules. She preferred piano and guitar to synthesizers and turn tables. She preferred heart breaking, soulful lyrics to vaguely worded innuendo. It wasn't easy for her, because few took her seriously in this genre, but she was gaining ground.

Her agent blamed her imaginary friend. At least that's what he called him. And, in truth, Rey had to agree. Ever since the tutors put a sketch pencil in her hand, she had only cared about one thing in her drawing. A boy. Well, more like a young man, maybe a teenager in the beginning? He had dark eyes and darker hair that framed a face that was a bit too long with a prominent nose. She knew his face as well as he knew his name, 'Ben Solo', and she saw him in her dreams every night. Sometimes he was crying, lonely like she had been, both of them surrounded by people who cared for them, but not by anyone who really saw or understood them. Sometimes he was angry. So very angry. Her therapist theorized that he was a coping mechanism, or perhaps her mind's way of creating a 'guardian angel'. Or just a counterpart to share her pain.

Over the years he changed. Several years ago even his name changed, from 'Ben Solo' to 'Kylo Ren'. Now he was angry nearly all the time. Her dreams were more like nightmares, filled with violence and blood. And still she couldn't quit drawing him. She even painted him. Every tearful, impassioned love song she wrote was about him. He was her inspiration, even if he wasn't real.

He was real to her.

She tilted her head to one side as she cleaned her brushes, her eyes more on the canvas before her than her task. She had just finished it, a dual sided work with the masked version of Kylo looking towards the left and the unmasked version of him facing towards the right. Getting the silver of the mask to come out just right had been challenging, but not as much as the soulful expression of the face. With the mask he could be cold and ruthless. Without it, his face hid nothing.

Her cell phone buzzed on the table by the door to her art room. She sighed and stepped away from the canvas, setting her brushes down on a cloth to dry before looking at the screen. Why was Steffie calling her? Wasn't she supposed to be attending that alien diplomat thingy going down in DC?

She accepted the call and held it to her ear. "I thought you'd be elbow deep in senators and sycophants by now."

"Rey! Drop everything and get you ass to DC! Now!"

"What? What are you going on about? And no one's getting to DC right now. They have all roads and air traffic locked down."

"Find a way! You need to get here! NOW!"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sometimes Steffie got a bit worked up. "I'm sure whatever it is you are more than capable of handling it. Mitch wouldn't have gotten you that invite if he thought you couldn't handle it."

"You don't understand, Rey! He's real!"

"Who's real?"

"Your mystery hottie! Rey! I just saw the real Kylo Ren!"